


8/10, would tolerate

by sarcasticfishes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergent - No One Died in 3x23 or 3x24, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Pack Holiday, post 3b
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 21:26:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1362289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticfishes/pseuds/sarcasticfishes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek didn’t know what he expected to find at the poolside at 3am, but it certainly wasn’t what he did find. This pool was neat and rectangular, navy-tiled inside and white granite edges, and the water wasn’t too strongly chlorinated either.</p><p>Oh, and Stiles was in it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	8/10, would tolerate

**Author's Note:**

> So, in light of the ever looming 3b finale tonight, I present some cutesy Sterek love. A different kind of pool-scene you could call it. Unbeta'd at the moment, so any mistakes are my fault and if you feel the need to point them out please don't hesitate :D

Derek didn’t know who or what he expected to find at the poolside at 3am, but it certainly wasn’t what he _did_ find.

This was one of those rare well-kept motels that they were staying in. Even to Derek’s heightened senses, it passed the test, and he had no qualms about going for a late night swim. This pool was neat and rectangular, navy-tiled inside and white granite edges, and the water wasn’t too strongly chlorinated either.

Oh, and Stiles was _in it_.

Derek hesitated on the steps of the block, and looked back up towards the awning, eyes lingering on each of the doors he knew pack members lay behind. He thought about going back upstairs and forgetting he ever wanted to swim in the first place but— if there was anyone he would share the pool with, it was Stiles.

Derek found him a lot more tolerable lately, which actually felt kind of melancholy. Stiles hadn’t been quiet the same since – since _everything –_ since he hadn’t been himself, more withdrawn and hesitant, less willing to talk back, give cheek. Derek kind of missed it. It was unnervingly easy to sit next to Stiles in Scott’s living room, watch a movie with the pack and not hear the boy speak for the entire run of the movie.

So he took another step down towards the bottom of stairs, taking in the stagnant way Stiles stood in the water, the broad expanse of his shoulders, right down to his narrow waist. The air smelled around them cold and crisp, like night in the desert, and dejection.

“Stiles,” he said, and Stiles jolted a little, ripples spreading out from around his waist and forearms, but he eased again as he looked back over his shoulder. He crouched a little in the water as he turned (as if self-conscious), just his collarbones above the waterline, cheeks a little flushed as he saw Derek there in his trunks, towel slung over his shoulder.

“It’s 3am,” Stiles said, like _he_ was the creature of the night, and not Derek. Derek shot him a look that was more eyebrow than anything, and Stiles sunk even lower, up to his chin.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Derek asked, easing himself down to sit at the edge of the pool, slipping his feet in.

“Since when do I sleep,” Stiles said, quiet, but with a hint of sarcasm. Enough to take Derek’s edge of nervousness away. He gave Stiles what he hoped was a sympathetic smile, and Stiles waded towards him, emerging just enough from the water to lean his elbows against the edge, next to Derek’s thigh, “What about you? Something on your mind?”

Derek thought about it, all the things that stopped him from sleeping, couldn’t exactly pin any one thing, so he said, “There are a lot of things that keep me awake.”

Stiles just nodded, pushed back a little.

“The water’s nice,” he said, and Derek slid easily into the place next to Stiles. He nearly winced at the coolness, but his body adjusted quickly, and he submerged fully, the water filling his ears and nose, dulling his senses for a few precious moments before he resurfaced.

Stiles was heading for the steps out when Derek wiped the water from his eyes, leaving the pool.

“Are you going?” Derek asked, and Stiles faltered, hand against the granite edging.

“Figured you came out here to be alone. That you don’t need me around pissing you off.”

“You don’t piss me off,” Derek pointed out, “you’re not that much of a hardship to be around.”

Stiles looked surprised, relinquished his grip on the side of the pool.

“I don’t piss you off,” he said, in derisive disbelief.

“No, the _twins_ piss me off.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, snorting a little, “I remember you said they were like a 2/10 on your scale of ‘would tolerate’ and Isaac broke a mug he laughed so hard.”

Derek shrugged a shoulder, almost bashfully, and Stiles was suddenly floating back towards him, a strangely determined look in his eyes.

It’d been a while since Derek had stopped lying to himself. He knew he found Stiles attractive, he just thought it was in the pack’s best interest to hide that fact from everyone else. Here though, it was just the two of them, and it was late, and Derek was contented, so he just— let go. The feelings overwhelmed him, heat in his cheeks as he took in the soft shape of Stiles’ mouth, the dark smattering of chest hair against his pale skin, pert and dusky nipples in the cool air.

“Good to know I’m more than a two.”

“You’re at least four times that,” Derek said frankly, “8/10, would tolerate.”

Stiles grinned broadly, eyes bright and the glimmer of the water shinning off his skin. Suddenly, he splashed Derek, large hands cupping the water _very_ effectively. Derek spluttered.

“What about now,” Stiles quipped, and Derek blinked, rubbing his eyes.

“Seven-point-five,” he gritted out, and no sooner had the words left his mouth than he was assaulted again, loud, thick plashes of water flung in his direction, “Five. FIVE.”

“Oh _yeah_ ,” Stiles taunted, and Derek could, _just_ about see the joyful expression on his face through the assault, as he edged closer and closer to Derek and continued to pelt him with the water, “I can’t believe I’m doing _this_ and you still like me more than the _twins_.”

_I like you more than most people._

“I like _most people_ more than the twins,” Derek said instead, blindly reaching out, getting his hands on Stiles’ forearms and stilling him with a little manhandling, shaking his hair out, and Stiles squawked and squirmed away from him, away from the droplet spray of his hair. Derek determinedly held him in place.

“ _Jesus_ ,” Stiles wailed, “I surrender! Quit it dude, I’ve got a dog joke on the freaking tip of my tongue.”

Derek laughed, letting Stiles free, and then splashing him once for good measure. Stiles grinned, squinting as he wiped his face, and Derek was pleased when he didn’t move away, less than eight inches of space between them in the water.

“I’ve never been with you like this before,” Stiles said after a moment, chin down against his chest, cheeks pink even in the yellow fluorescent light of the poolside.

“We’ve been in a pool before,” Derek prompted, lifting an eyebrow (and Stiles rolled his eyes, slouching a little).

“I mean, we’ve never really had a chance to be alone like this, just talk,” Stiles said, looking a little tentative.

“We had the summer,” Derek pointed out, remembering how odd he thought it at the time that Stiles was spending so much time around _him_ of all people while he complained about being Scott and Isaac’s third wheel.

“Yeah, but even then. You were preoccupied with the Alpha Pack. I was absorbed in my hatred of Isaac. Dude is a 4/10, probably would not tolerate. But he was a 1/10 that summer, let’s be real.”

Derek pressed his lips together as he tried not to laugh, nodding, and Stiles continued talking.

“But nothing’s happened in months. We’re on a freaking _road trip_. We’re on holiday. It’s nice. Relaxed. You even _look_ different.”

“I trimmed my beard,” Derek said, and Stiles snorted, lifting a hand to touch the facial hair in question.

“I mean, you look happy,” he said, and scratched his fingers against the thick, neat hair of Derek’s beard. He knew he’d be getting the scent of Stiles from it for days, but was unsure as to whether that irritated him or pleased him, “It’s a good look.”

“You’ve changed too.” _But it’s different._

Stiles frowned a little, “I killed people, Derek. Innocent people.”

Derek flashed his eyes at Stiles, bright and blue like the July sky they’d shared once upon a time on the balcony of Derek’s loft.

“So have I.”

Stiles pulled back a little, folding his arms over his chest, “How does it not _consume_ you?” he asked, voice suddenly quiet and cracking. It’d been months since the incidents, but Derek knew it would take _years_ to come to terms with what happened, if Stiles _ever_ came to terms with it.

“It does,” he said simply, and Stiles’ face crumpled, the change of mood almost stifling, “There will always be guilt. You just have to find something that makes the guilt tolerable. Make other people’s lives a little more endurable. I never exactly got the knack of that, something tells me you’d be better.”

Stiles looked paler than before then, young and tired in the artificial lighting as he hugged himself. Derek reached out for him, taking Stiles’ hands away from his body, holding them out between them.

“I spent a lot of time carrying my guilt around like that. It’s better to put it away, open yourself up to people instead of curling away in a shadow of yourself.”

Stiles winced, but nodded, and for a moment his fingers squeezed tightly around Derek’s before the grasp was mutually broken.

There was a rare breeze just then, and Derek noticed Stiles shudder and tuck in closer to him, all gooseflesh and blushing as he did so.

“Do a length with me and then we’ll get out,” Derek said, jerking his head towards the other end of the pool, and Stiles nodded, drifting away to give himself space to swim. They took off together towards the other end of the pool, Stiles keeping the easy pace with Derek the whole way to the deep end and then back again. Derek thought that Stiles might be a strong swimmer it there was a bigger pool. But as usual Stiles was rarely given room to show his talent.

When they got back to the other end, Stiles hoisted himself out quickly, and Derek’s mouth went dry when he realised Stiles had only been wearing a pair of dark boxer-briefs, clingy polyester leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination now. Derek averted his eyes pointedly as Stiles straightened up, waiting for Derek to get out.

He didn’t find it cold, body temperature adjusting again, so he gave the large towel to Stiles, wrapping it around his shoulders before turning him towards the stairs back up to the rooms.

“Come to my room for a while?” he said, before he could really second guess himself, and Stiles seemed to light up again, the conversation before having dimmed his shine.

“Yeah,” Stiles said, “But uh, I’m in my underwear, man. Should I-”

“I’ll give you something to wear,” Derek said, and something feral in him preened at the thought of Stiles in his clothes.

Stiles gave him a look that clearly said ‘ _or not_ ’ but Derek just gave him a gentle shove in the direction of the motel room, key in his hand.

“I’m not eighteen,” Stiles said, and it might have been a non sequitur had they not been following the same train of thought. And anyway, Derek didn’t really care. Stiles was right, they’d never been together like this before, and with their track record, what was the chances they’d be together like this again?

“Three days really make much of a difference?” Derek asked, as he pushed the door of his room open, and Stiles stilled in the doorway.

“You know when my birthday is?”

Derek raised an eyebrow, dripping on the carpet by the bed, “Of course I do. Get in here.”

Stiles dropped the towel, flung the door shut and vaulted forward into Derek, like magnetic poles attracting, and they snapped together, mouths and hips and hands and thighs, _everything_.

Derek grunted, lifting Stiles up around his hips before dropping him onto the bed, holding him down against the mattress beneath him. Stiles’ heels pressed into his lower back for leverage as he rolled his hips up and groaned quietly. Derek’s head swam, he could already feel Stiles getting hard, and there was just one distractingly snug layer in the way of Derek getting his hands on him.

He didn’t want to rush this, unsure whether Stiles was still a virgin or not, not knowing whether he should take this nice and slow like his conscience called for, or fast and passionate like his blood sang for.

Derek decided when Stiles started grappling with his trunks that this was not going to be a very sweet affair. Derek’s mouth closed hot and wet over one of Stiles’ nipples, and Stiles stalled in his attentions to Derek’s shorts in order to get a hand around the back of his neck, encouraging.

“Fuck,” he said, a little awed and breathy as Derek started to blindly peel Stiles’ briefs away, only pulling away to watch his cock spring up against his stomach, nestled in a dark tangle of hair that Derek wanted to press his nose into as he swallowed Stiles down.

Stiles, legs hooked around Derek’s waist, pushed at his trunks with his toes, once against trying to get rid of them, and Derek shimmied out easily, and then pushed them both further into the middle of the bed, enjoying Stiles’ surprised (and pleased) squeak at the display of strength.

“Never thought I’d be into the whole manhandling thing,” he said, panting slightly from excitement, “But _Jesus Christ,_ Derek.”

“Really?” Derek teased, mouthing at the skin below Stiles’ ear, and Stiles stuttered out a laugh.

“Well, no, I got a fair idea of what exactly I liked that one time you pinned me to my bedroom door. And some other times after that.”

Derek grinned, “All just excuses to touch you.”

Stiles rolled up again, this time his cock slipping against Derek’s, and it was hard for either of them to hold back a groan. Stiles licked his palm, both of them still damp from the water anyway, and wrapped his hand around them both, Derek swallowing his moan with a bruising kiss. He took Stiles’ left hand in his, pinning it back over his head, the other hand skirting down his side, around the small of his back, grabbing his ass and pulling them flush together.

Stiles moaned again, louder this time as he grinded into the motion of his hand, nearly big enough to encircle them both but just not quite. It was maddening, being on the edge like that and never quite _there_ , but Derek supposed it fit them quite perfectly.

He could see the blush high in Stiles’ cheeks, the way his eyes glazed over, his mouth open as he sunk into the feeling of the two of them together, traction and friction, taking him over. Derek knew he needed just a little push.

Derek pressed his middle finger between Stiles’ cheeks, just the pad of his finger rubbing against his opening, and Stiles jolted at the sensation, cried out as he came, hand tightening and speeding up, and Derek rolled against him a little harder, helping him ride it out for as long as he could. Stiles’ heel dug into the back of Derek’s thigh, as he sighed out his name and tipped his head back.

Stiles’ let go of his dick, hand slick with his own come as his curled it around Derek’s cock, and it took maybe two, three strokes before he was coming too, hot and thick over Stiles’ knuckles. Stiles groaned, arching into him, jerking him eagerly until Derek hissed and started to push his hand away, already sensitive.

He braced himself on his palms over Stiles, trying to catch his breath, and Stiles lifted his sticky hand, looking in awe at what Derek was sure was both their come.

“ _That_ happened,” Stiles said, and Derek huffed out a laugh that morphed into a groan when Stiles boldly sucked one of his fingers into his mouth for a taste.

“Jesus, Stiles.”

“I wanted to know,” Stiles defended himself, pushing himself up on his elbows to get closer to Derek, “It’s us. Together. I like it.”

Derek liked the idea too, but couldn’t hold back an irked noise when Stiles slapped the come-slick hand against his chest, and laughed.

“I think we should shower,” Derek said, not wanting to smell like chlorine and spunk for much longer. Stiles nodded and made a happy noise, slipping to the edge of the bed as Derek stood up. Maybe it was the afterglow, but Stiles was still grinning, and Derek himself was having trouble keeping a straight face. It felt like something had lifted inside of him.

Stiles smacked a wet kiss on Derek’s cheek as Derek held the bathroom door open for him, and started to mess with the knobs in the shower until he got the spray right. His smile was suddenly so shy that Derek couldn’t help but cup Stiles’ face in his hands, kiss him softly, in a way they just haven’t yet. Stiles’ body just relaxed, like all the tension left it. He pulled Derek into the tub, under the spray.

“After this, can we cuddle?” Stiles asked, softly, like he was testing the waters, like Derek hadn’t already seen him come apart. Like Derek didn’t want to make him shake like that again, and again, and again, for as however long as Stiles wanted him. Forever, maybe.

“Sounds like a plan, yeah.”


End file.
